Might As Well Fly
by Violetrose93
Summary: Rose thought that if she could just survive OWL year, her life would go back to normal. Nope. She somehow ends up being forced to play Chaser alongside Scorpius Malfoy, who just might be the most irritating person alive. But as they spend more time together, Rose is forced to confront the fact that Scorpius might end up being more than a teammate. Scorose!
1. Ungrateful

**So here's that Rose/Scorpius story I've been promising for months. I've decided that, in an attempt to keep myself from going crazy with updates, this story will be updated on the 1** **st** **and 15** **th** **of every month. To make up for the length of time in between updates, the chapters will be quite a bit longer than what I usually do.**

Rose nervously adjusted the front of her Quidditch robes, wishing for the millionth time that she had inherited her mother's soft brunette locks instead of her father's flaming ones. There was nothing she could do to keep her hair from clashing violently with the crimson robes.

"Stop worrying about it, Ro," said Albus, coming up from behind her. "No one's looking at your hair when you're scoring goals."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered.

"All right, form up," James ordered from the middle of the changing room.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Who does he think he is? Natalie's dad?"

"Pretty much," said Albus, shrugging. Natalie Wood grinned at them from across the room, tossing her cinnamon brown plait behind her head as she sat down.

Albus laughed as Rose scowled, her fingers once again straying to her hair. "Oh, shut up," she said lowly, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"Make me," he replied, grinning.

"Rose, Al, pay attention!" James barked, glaring at them. They waited until he turned his attention back to the rest of the team, then rolled their eyes at each other.

"Listen up, people," said James, beginning to pace. "This is the first match of the season, our first chance to show the school just what it means to be Gryffindor! We are the—"

Rose tuned the rest of James' speech out. Her cousin could be incredibly melodramatic, and even more so when Quidditch was concerned. Although James hadn't followed in his father's footsteps to become Gryffindor Seeker, he was one excellent Keeper. Rose's father liked to boast that James got it from him, which inevitably earned him an eye-roll from both her mother and her Aunt Ginny.

Albus, on the other hand, had taken a leaf out of his mother's book. He was a superb Chaser, and when he, Rose and Natalie really got going, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"James, give it a rest already," Lily complained. Although she was as much a ginger as Rose, Lily's red-gold hair was held back in a neat bun, making her look more like a ballerina than a Quidditch player.

Before James could retort, Albus said, "Aren't we supposed to be going out anyway? The Slytherins are already lined up."

There was a flurry of activity as the meeting disbanded, players grabbing their brooms and making last minute adjustments to their uniforms. Before Rose could fiddle with her hair anymore, Albus seized her by the arm and dragged her out onto the pitch.

"Alright, alright," she said, snatching her arm away irritably. "I can walk just fine by myself, thanks."

At least the weather was good today. Light cloud cover, with a soft breeze coming up from the south.

Both teams stood and watched as their captains shook hands, James and his Slytherin counterpart, Lyle Flint, trying to break each other's fingers.

"Alright, that's enough," barked Madam Hooch. James and Flint returned to their teams, and everyone climbed onto their brooms. Rose inhaled deeply, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in her stomach. It didn't matter that she had been on the team since her second year. It didn't matter that she had played in more than a dozen matches. This moment, this space in time right before the whistle blew, still made her feel as though she might faint.

And then the whistle sounded, and they were off.

As she rose into the air, Rose felt all of her insecurity slip away. This was where she belonged. This was _magic_. And grinning, she flicked a stray strand of hair out of her face and began to play.

* * *

"That match was wicked!"

Rose grinned in a bemused sort of way, watching the tiny Ravenclaw bouncing around the room. Although Winnie was less than a month younger than Rose, she looked more like a second year than a sixth year. She was tiny, with an elfin face, large doe eyes, and a head of tight fawn-colored curls.

"Win, re _lax_ ," said Albus, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her to stand still.

Winnie shook him off easily. "I mean, it was so _close_. If Rose hadn't scored those last two goals—"

"—which I assisted on—"

"—and that Slytherin Beater hadn't hit Natalie over the head with his bat in retaliation—"

"—which is nothing to be happy about, Win—"

"—or if you missed that penalty—"

"—I _didn't_ miss—

"—then Slytherin would have _won_." Exhausted, finally, Winnie flopped down onto an armchair, her limbs dangling over the edges comically. Albus was sitting on the sofa looking distinctly disgruntled. He approached Quidditch in a more clinical, analytic way then Winnie did; she was all excitement and boundless enthusiasm, especially when it came to her position as Ravenclaw Seeker.

Long used to her friend and cousin's antics, Rose just smiled and shook her head, enjoying the feeling of not having anything to do. The fervor of O.W.L. year was over, and even though there were still N.E.W.T.S. to think about, they were such a long way off that Rose could ignore them for the time being.

Albus shook off his stormy expression and stood, yawning. "I'm off to bed, then. I have to get up early and finish that essay for Potions tomorrow. Unless, someone might be willing to let me copy theirs . . ?" He looked hopefully at Rose, who shook her head.

"Nope. I told you to do it last week."

"But I was busy last week," Albus whined.

Rose snorted. "Yeah, busy Charming Trelawney's chair to squawk like a dying chicken every time she sat down."

"So were you," Albus pointed out.

"Yes, but unlike you," said Rose, raising an eyebrow, "my homework was already done."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Albus. He walked slowly to the door, dragging his feet. At the threshold, he turned back and gave her one last pathetic look. "I guess my own cousin doesn't care if I pass my classes or not."

Rose pulled out her wand and pointed the tip lazily at Albus, who yelped and flung himself out into the corridor. He knew as well as she did that his mother had spent most of the previous summer teaching Rose how to perfect her Bat-Bogey-Hex. She hadn't had an occasion to use it _just_ yet, but there was always tomorrow.

Winnie grinned and shook her curls out of her face. "I love how they're all terrified of you."

"As they should be," replied Rose, pocketing her wand. She stood as well, stretching. "I think I'm going to go on up too. I'm exhausted."

"Well, tomorrow's Sunday, so you can sleep in as late as you want," said Winnie. "Although, that would mean you'd be leaving me to deal with Al alone, but you probably don't care. . ." She sighed heavily, looking as pathetic as Albus had.

Rose laughed. "I think you can handle him for a couple hours."

They said goodnight and left the room, each heading toward their respective towers. Because Winnie wasn't allowed in the Gryffindor common room, and Rose and Al weren't allowed in the Ravenclaw one, they'd been hanging out in an unused fifth floor classroom since their first year. Initially, they'd just used it to study, but over time, it had been transformed from a cold, empty space to a cozy little retreat. They'd pinched most of the furniture and such from the Room of Requirement, and hung banners and flags from both of their Houses. Now, almost halfway through their sixth year, although they still called it the study room, it was as homey as any of their common rooms.

And a great deal quieter, at least in regard to the Gryffindor common room; it was usually so crowded and noisy that Rose could barely hear herself think. To make sure that the study room stayed just the way they liked it, Rose had enchanted the door to open only for herself, Al, or Winnie. They'd all agreed that if James or Fred discovered their secret, they'd waste no time in turning it into a base of operations for Weasley Family Shenanigans.

Although a few of her older cousins had graduated, there were still plenty of Weasleys to wreak havoc at Hogwarts. And despite the fact that Lily and her brothers were only Weasley by blood and not by name, they still contributed their fair share of chaos to the school.

Rose grinned, thinking about her parents' reactions if they ever found out she was as complicit as her brother and cousins in the troublemaking. Just because she liked her classes and always did her homework on time didn't mean she wasn't up for some late-night high jinx every now and again.

A sudden sound at the end of the corridor caught Rose's attention. Warily, she drew her wand and crept toward the end of the hallway.

". . . scum . . . need to learn respect . . . watch him, Vale!" There was a loud bang, and several male voices swore. Recognizing at least one of the voices, Rose straightened up and strode forward purposefully.

Around the corner, a group of four boys had cornered a fifth. Rose refrained from making her presence known for a moment as she observed them. The four attackers were recognizable enough. They were all seventh year Gryffindors, and all embodiments of the worst that the House had to offer; loud, boorish, boastful, and completely conceited.

There was Manfred Vale, who was holding the victim's arms behind his back. Dark haired and dark complected, Rose knew that a lot of girls fancied him, but she would have sooner kissed a basilisk.

The two boys with matching brown curls and hazel eyes were the Pembery twins, Hector and Horace. With only half a brain between the both of them, they were little more than glorified bodyguards, although they were unfortunately adept at most hexes and jinxes.

And then there was their ringleader. Rose's lip curled in disgust as she surveyed Conall McLaggen, standing back and observing his handiwork with an air of smug arrogance.

No one noticed her, as preoccupied as they were with their harassment. With a start, Rose realized that the victim was Scorpius Malfoy. This shouldn't have been surprising, since McLaggen and his friends loved to target Slytherins, but Scorpius wasn't slacking when it came to defensive magic. The fact that they had him cornered like this led Rose to believe that they had gotten the jump on him somehow.

Scorpius looked terrible. His usually neat blonde hair was disheveled, the collar of his shirt was torn, and there a bruise was already darkening the skin around one stormy gray eye. He had no wand; Rose spotted it lying on the floor halfway down the corridor.

Sighing quietly to herself, she sent a round of nonverbal Stunners into the group of Gryffindors. They fell like dominoes, one after the other with heavy thuds that echoed down the corridor. Pocketing her wand, Rose strode forward, shaking her as she surveyed her fallen Housemates with disgust.

Scorpius eyed her warily, his stance rigid. "Why did you do that for?"

"Because they annoyed me," she replied, shrugging. "Lousy excuses for Gryffindors, the lot of them." She silently Summoned his wand so that it whizzed through the air and into her hand. Tossing it to Scorpius, she added, "Unfortunately, they're not half bad when it comes to jinxes."

"They caught me off guard," mumbled Scorpius, inspecting his wand for damage. "Wasn't expecting them all to be hanging about just around the corner."

He fell into step beside Rose as she started to make her way to the Grand Staircase. It was almost curfew, and the last thing she wanted was to get caught with a bunch of unconscious bodies after hours.

As they walked down the silent corridors, Rose realized that it was awkward, being alone with Scorpius like this. Normally, the only opportunity they had to interact with one another was either in classroom or on the Quidditch pitch. Scorpius was an excellent Chaser, even if he was a Slytherin.

But outside of classes and Quidditch, it quickly became apparent that they had nothing to talk about. And considering the fact that Slytherin had just lost to Gryffindor for the ninth year in a row, Rose felt as though he wouldn't be too keen to discuss the match.

As they came to the staircase, Scorpius stopped abruptly and said, "I didn't need your help, you know. I was just fine before you barged in." He glowered at her, the black eye giving his glare a lopsided appearance.

"Oh, really?" Rose narrowed her eyes. "And what, may I ask, were you going to do to them? Considering the fact that it was four on one and you were wandless?"

"I could have handled it myself," said Scorpius stubbornly.

"Whatever," snapped Rose, suddenly furious. Although the rational part of her brain understood that his pride was injured, and that—being a Weasley, Gryffindor, and a girl—she was perhaps the worst person to have stepped in to help him, she couldn't keep herself from being livid at his completely lack of gratitude.

Rose turned and started to climb the staircase, but she hadn't gone more than three steps before she stopped and whirled back around. "Oh, and Malfoy?" she called, her eyes little more than slits. "A bit of advice. Next time you see McLaggen and his goons coming your way, run. I'm not always going to be there to save your sorry arse." And then, fuming and in high dudgeon, she turned on her heel and stalked off to the seventh floor, leaving one speechless Slytherin in her wake.

* * *

For reasons best known to herself, Rose didn't mention her encounter with Scorpius to Winnie until Sunday afternoon. And then, to her immense irritation, her best friend's first reaction was to roar with laughter.

"You actually said that?" Winnie asked, her face turning bright red. "That's beautiful."

Rose scowled. They were sitting in opposite armchairs in the study room with Winnie's cat curled up on a battered ottoman between them. "It is _not_."

"Sure it is," said Winnie, grinning. "How long do you think Malfoy stood there with his mouth hanging open?"

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Rose snorted with laughter. "I don't know, and I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, the whole lot of them can get eaten by the giant squid."

Winnie wrinkled her nose. "Don't you think that'd give it indigestion?"

"Are we feeding people to the giant squid again?" asked Albus, striding into the room. "Because if we are, I have a list." Ignoring the perfectly good sofa, he flopped down on the floor beside the ottoman.

As Winnie retold the story with great enthusiasm, Rose contented herself with turning the tabby cat's fur from orange to a particularly bright shade of cobalt blue.

"Isn't that the greatest thing you've ever—Rose!" Winnie screeched, staring at the poor cat in horror.

"What?" Rose asked innocently. "He doesn't seem to mind."

"Of course he minds! Who wouldn't? Just _look_ at him!"

Albus cocked his head, looking at the cat thoughtfully. "You know, if you turned his stripes bronze, he'd be Ravenclaw colored."

Winnie didn't seem to find this comment quite as amusing as Rose did.

In the end, it took Winnie the better part of an hour to put the cat's coloring to rights. Every time she tried to return its fur to normal, the color only shifted to a shade even more ghastly than the one before. By the time Winnie finally succeeded, the poor creature was a virulent shade of puce, which even Rose agreed was cruel and unusual punishment.

"You are the embodiment of pure evil," Winnie grumbled as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Well, she is a ginger," Albus pointed out, grinning. "It's not like she has a soul."

Rose growled and slugged him in the shoulder, but he just laughed her off.

Dinner was more subdued than usual. All of the Gryffindors were still recovering from their late night revelry, while the Slytherins were lying low in the wake of their Quidditch defeat. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall stood and cleared her throat that things began to get interesting.

"Quiet, please," she said, surveying the four tables over the bridge of her spectacles. "I have an announcement that I am sure a great many of your will find interesting." Although she had to be pushing eighty at this point, there was still a mischievous glint to the headmistress's emerald gaze as she continued to look around the hall.

"I have just received an owl from London, alerting me to the fact that, after many years of intense debate between the various departments of the Ministry, it has been decided that as of the upcoming season, Hogwarts will become an annual participant in the I.Q.L."

Instant pandemonium. Rose laughed and clapped her hands over her ears, grinning across the table at Albus, who was pounding the table in a frenzy of glee. Across the hall, Winnie too had covered her ears, but instead of looking elated, she simply looked puzzled at the sudden uproar. Rose laughed again and mouthed the words, _I'll tell you later_ at her friend. As enthusiastic as Winnie was about magic, Rose sometimes forgot that she was Muggleborn.

McGonagall rapped the side of her crystal goblet with the edge of her spoon, quieting the hall almost instantly. Everyone was watching McGonagall with great anticipation.

"The team captain, who has been chosen by myself, Madam Hooch, and the Heads of House, will be responsible for holding trials during the last week of the term." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the four tables once more. "Let me make it very clear. This team will be comprised of the seven best players in the school, regardless of which Houses they may come from."

People murmured to one another with interest at this last statement. Rose looked at Albus and frowned slightly, wondering just how that was going to work. Quidditch was a high divisive sport when it came to inter-school unity. In part, it had been her mother's endless speeches on this subject as a child that had spurred Rose to try out for her House team in the first place, if only to goad her mother.

Albus, apparently, was more concerned with less philosophical matters. "But who _is_ the bloody captain?" He was beside himself with barely controlled anguish as he looked at McGonagall beseechingly. All around the hall, Rose could hear the same question being repeated over and over again.

"Well, it's obviously someone who's already a House captain," she said. "Not Flint, of course, but maybe one of the others." Even if the professors managed to ignore the fact that he was a complete git, he wasn't a particularly brilliant player or captain.

But the Hufflepuff captain could probably be discounted as well, considering the fact he spent most time in the hospital wing than actually on the pitch.

So that left the Ravenclaw captain, Keira Davies, or . . .

McGonagall smiled suddenly, her gaze traveling up the Gryffindor table. "I think I speak for the entire staff when I say that we wish Mr. Potter the best of luck in his captaincy."

* * *

Three hours later, James still hadn't said a word. He just sat in the corner of the common room, a stunned sort of look on his face.

"Alright, keep moving people," said Fred loudly. He chivvied a large crowd of people out of the common room and up into their dormitories, threatening to hex them all in their sleep if they didn't let James be. Fred's mother always said he would have made an excellent prefect if he wasn't so much like his father.

"Do you think he's alright?" asked Rose anxiously. It wasn't like James to be quiet for three minutes, let alone three hours.

"I think he's in shock." Albus tilted his head slightly, considering his brother. "Ah, well. He'll probably be fine by morning."

There was a distinct rapping coming from the portrait hole. Glancing at each other, Rose and Albus went and peeked out into the corridor.

Winnie was standing there with her hands on her hips, her normally amiable features contorted into a mask of complete irritation.

"Is _someone_ going to tell me what all that _fuss_ was about?" she asked hotly, glaring at the two Gryffindors.

Albus chuckled as he swung out of the portrait hole. "I forgot. You wouldn't know, would you?" He looked at Winnie pityingly, at least until she pulled out her wand and threatened to hex him. "Alright, alright," he said hastily. "It's the Interscholastic Quidditch League."

"Which is what, exactly?"

Rose laughed. "It's like the World Cup. Schools like Hogwarts compete internationally for the title every year."

"Then why haven't we ever competed before?" Winnie wanted to know.

"Because the Ministry's balked at international endeavors like this since the last Triwizard Tournament," explained Rose.

"Not to mention that since the last Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports became a bookie—"

"—no one really takes them seriously anymore, yeah, I know _that_ ," said Winnie. But her annoyance seemed to have faded. "How's James doing?"

Rose and Albus looked at each other.

"Uh . . ."

". . . well . . ."

"So, not good." Winnie sighed. "But at least it sounds like things will be interesting this year, huh?"

* * *

 **I wanted to take a second and explain the name of this story a bit.** **If anyone has ever read Dean Koontz's** _ **Life Expectancy**_ **, there's a part where the crazy clown murderer is talking about how he really wanted to be an aerialist instead of a crazy clown murderer (I know, awesome, right?) He says, "Might as well die if I can't fly." For some reason, I've always loved that line, even if it is kind of insane. Although, I did tweak it slightly to better match the story.**

 **Haha, anyway, reviews are always lovely, especially since I haven't written quite as much Rose/Scorpius stuff as some of my other pairings. If you want me to continue, please, don't hesitate to say so. I hope you guys like the story!**


	2. Mayhem and Mishaps

**So I'm going to start off by fangirling over books. If anyone else stalks Barnes and Noble like I do, you'll know that they have this awesome Collectible edition series of all these classic works. Well, the book I just got is a compilation of seven of Jane Austen's novels. It has** _ **Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion,**_ **and** _ **Lady Susan**_ **, and it's beautiful. Just beautiful.**

 **Haha, fangirling done, so on to chapter two.**

* * *

Between studying for exams and near constant Quidditch training, the last month of term seemed to fly by. Despite the heavy blanket of snow that had fallen upon the castle and its grounds since late November, a great many of people could be seen out at all hours of the day.

"Do they honestly think that they'll make progress in this weather?" Rose scoffed one cold, blustery evening. The sun had just set, but there was still enough light to make out the three pitiful figures by the edge of the lake. Every few seconds, a powerful blast of wind carrying snow and ice roared through the grounds.

"They must be running Seeker drills," said Rose, watching as the figure on the ground tossed something small up into the air. The two figures on broomsticks immediately went streaking after it.

Albus snorted. "Gits."

"Oh, be nice," chided Winnie.

"I'm not being _mean_ ," replied Albus. "I'm being realistic."

They were in the study room, clustered around a table by the window. Albus's essay for Professor Sinistra lay forgotten underneath a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which he had refused to put down since Professor McGonagall had made her announcement the previous month.

"Well, since we're being realistic, who do you think's going to make it on Tuesday?" Winnie tucked a stray curl behind one ear, only to have it spring free a second later.

Albus exhaled, looking thoughtful. "A week ago, I would've said Garrett and Adrian without a doubt. But after seeing Corner practicing yesterday . . ."

"Wait." Rose frowned. "You mean Isaac?"

"Yeah," said Albus. "He hit a target from the opposite end of the pitch, square in the middle. Don't get me wrong, Garrett and Adrian are good, but they work well as a _pair_. James is trying the Beaters all separately first."

"But he knows how good they are," said Winnie. "Even if they don't do spectacularly as separates . . ."

Rose was shaking her head. "James can't do that. If he just picks favorites, it'll be a Gryffindor team going to competition."

"Well, a Gryffindor team with a Ravenclaw Seeker," said Winnie, grinning.

Albus laughed. "Tell Lily that, won't you?"

"That's part of my point," said Rose. "James already has a brother, sister, and a cousin who are trying out this week. That's bad enough."

"So? The trials are open, aren't they? If you and Albus go out there and outfly the competition, everyone will see. No one's going to be able to say he played favorites."

"You think that'll stop people from talking?" said Albus. "Of course it won't. Trust me, there's going to be a lot of sore losers by the end of the week."

* * *

As it happened, they didn't even have to wait until the end of the week. After dinner the next day, Rose was in the library, waiting for Madam Pince to bring her a book from the Restricted Section. It was just a Potions book, but the way Madam Pince had eyed her, a passerby might have thought that Rose had asked for a book on pureblood supremacy.

She sighed, glancing at her watch. Had the woman gotten lost? It wouldn't have surprised Rose; she and Winnie sometimes called this place the Labyrinth, and Madam Pince the Minotaur.

"Rose!"

Speaking of Winnie, there she was, running into the library with Albus on her heels.

"What's wrong?" she asked. They were both completely flushed and breathless.

"Seen—James?" wheezed Albus, collapsing against a shelf.

"No, not since dinner," replied Rose. "But he's probably in the common room. What happened?"

At this question, Albus let out such a string of curses that Rose stepped back in alarm. "Those _idiots_!" he practically roared, grabbing great fistfuls of his hair, then proceeding with another round of curses. idiot

To Rose's surprise, Winnie nodded vigorously. "James might as well not even bother to hold Beater trials tomorrow. There won't be anyone worthwhile there."

"What are you talking about?" Rose wondered if they'd been drinking. That could explain their bright red faces.

"Your Beaters, Finnegan and Jordan? They thought it was a good idea to try and brew Felix Felicis, so they'd be sure to make the team tomorrow."

"But that's—"

"Completely illegal? Of course it is," said Winnie, looking disgusted. "But who would've known? It's not like James would be screening for that, would he?"

"No, because there wouldn't have been enough time to brew it," said Rose. "It takes six months to mature, and no one knew about the tryouts until a month ago."

Albus, somewhat recovered from his bout of fury, interjected. "Those _morons_ thought they could alter the recipe, make it so it could be brewed quicker."

Rose paled. "Oh, no."

"Oh, _yes_ ," said Albus bitterly. "They, along with both Beaters from Ravenclaw and Slytherin, are currently in the Hospital Wing, unable to so much as lift a bat."

"Wait, they gave it to Higgs and Bole?" The Slytherin Beaters were notorious for their habit of smashing Gryffindor Chasers over the head with their bats, and then trying to say they thought it was the Quaffle.

"Of course not," said Winnie scathingly. "Those lackwits caught on to what Finnegan and Jordan were doing, so they stole some."

"What about the Ravenclaws?" Rose wanted to know.

Albus rolled his eyes. "All Boot had to do was bat her eyelashes at Adrian and that was it."

"Ah." Adrian had fancied Beatrice Boot for years.

"So now we're left with the _Hufflepuffs_ ," said Albus, looking disgusted.

Winnie wrinkled her nose as well. "I don't have a problem with Finch-Fletchley, but dear lord, _Cadwallder_."

Winnie and Harvey Cadwallder had been at odds for years. No one knew why. She wouldn't talk about what had happened between them, and Rose and Albus were too afraid to ask.

"They're awful," Albus moaned. "I mean, we'd have been better off with the Slytherins, as terrible as that sounds."

"Especially now that McLaggen's trying out," said Winnie.

" _What_?" exclaimed Rose.

"Oh, yes," said Winnie. "He fancies himself a Chaser. You and Al have a bit of competition. Honestly, I didn't even know he played Quidditch."

"He does," said Rose, dismayed. "But James has never wanted him on the team."

Albus's laughed darkly. "He's been getting McLaggen thrown in detention during tryouts for the last couple years."

"Kind of makes you wonder if it'd be better to have a Slytherin than him," said Winnie thoughtfully. "Malfoy doesn't seem too terrible."

Rose made a face, but before she could response, James poked his head into the library. He must have just been passing by and heard Winnie. "Have a Slytherin for what?" he asked curiously.

Albus and Winnie exchanged panicked looks. "Uh . . ."

"Here you are, Miss Weasley." So Madam Pince hadn't gotten lost after all. She held the book out to Rose, her fingers looking like claws as they curled around the spine.

"Thank you, Madam Pince," said Rose politely, stowing the book in her bag. "See you later, guys."

Winnie tried to grab the back of her robes, but Rose danced out of reach. She grinned, leaving them to break the news to James.

* * *

When Rose saw the number of names on the list for trials, she understood why James had chosen to separate the tryouts. With Beaters on one day, Chasers the next, and then the Seeker, it would be far easier to get an accurate read of each flyer's skills.

There had been a flurry of excitement when the news had gotten around about the Felix Felicis mishap. A lot of people seemed to think that without the regular Beaters competing, they had a better shot of actually making the cut. Although that was probably true, it didn't exactly spell success for the team.

Rose sighed, wondering if she was even going to bother trying out. Although Beaters often didn't get as much attention as the Seeker or Chasers, they were crucial to a well-balanced Quidditch team. There had been many times that Rose would have been knocked off her broom by a Bludger if it hadn't been for the timely intervention by Garrett or Adrian.

Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to try out. It would probably kill her if she didn't. That, or Albus would.

From a perch at a fifth floor window, Rose watched as what looked like the whole school flooded down the front lawn and toward the Quidditch pitch. She could practically feel the castle emptying out, the silence sinking into the walls and floor stones.

She had been dying to have a quiet moment to herself all week. With Albus bugging her for help with exams and Winnie bouncing off the walls about tryouts, she had seriously considered faking an illness so she could get sent to the Hospital Wing.

Someone was sending up a shower of red sparks on the pitch. It was probably James, trying to corral all the flyers into some semblance of an order. Rose snorted, imaging his face getting redder and redder. She and Winnie had a bet going that one of these days, James's head would just explode entirely.

Moving away from the window, Rose drifted down the corridor and toward the Grand Staircase. She had half a mind to go get her broom and squeeze in some last minute training on the back lawn. There wouldn't be time tomorrow. It'd be better than watching the Beater tryouts, anyway.

Ten minutes later, Rose was heading down the stairs with broomstick in hand. The sound of footsteps on marble caught her attention, and she peered down over the railing. A head of white blonde hair was descending several flights below her. Malfoy. And he had a broom as well.

Muttering curses under her breath, she hurried down after him. Other than the Quidditch pitch, the back lawn was the only that lent itself well to training. Did he have to budge his way into everything?

"Where do you think you're going, Malfoy?" asked Rose, falling into step beside him. Deftly, she slid her wand out of her pocket and hid it in the sleeve of her robe.

Scorpius's incredulous gaze shifted into a glare as his eyes fell on her broom. "None of your business, Weasley."

"Oh, really?" Rose smiled primly and gave the tip of her wand a little flick. Scorpius's cursed as his broom shot upward and smacked him square on the nose.

"What was that for?" he yelled, holding his face.

Rose ignored his question. "You really should keep a better hold of your broom," she replied snidely. "Otherwise, I wouldn't even bother trying out tomorrow." Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, their last encounter was still needling her.

Scorpius's face darkened, and he looked away. "You're a right piece of work. You know as well as everyone else in this damn school that I'm not flying tomorrow."

Rose's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Why the hell not?"

"Oh, that's right, play dumb," he sneered.

"If you're not trying out tomorrow, then what are you doing right now?" Rose asked, gesturing toward Scorpius's broomstick.

"Sometimes I fly just to fly. Is that a crime now, Weasley?"

She glared at him. "You still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" He was being deliberately frustrating.

"Why aren't you going out for the team?" Rose spoke slowly, through gritted teeth. She wanted nothing more than to smash the handle of her broomstick right down over his smug little head.

Scorpius stared at her for a moment. "You're being serious."

"Of course I'm being serious!"

"Do you honestly think," said Scorpius severely, "that your cousin would even think of putting me on that team? Even if we took you and his brother out of the equation, Potter would rather field a team of _Hufflepuffs_ than let me play Chaser."

Scorpius's words hung in the silence, and he looked so bitter, so absolutely dejected, that Rose felt a pang of sympathy for him. It wasn't an unreasonable assumption. James detested the Slytherins. Not that it wasn't warranted, of course, but even as absolutely infuriating as Scorpius was, Rose had to admit that he was nowhere near as nasty as some of his Housemates.

"I don't believe that," she said finally. Seeing the look on his face, she continued hastily, "I won't deny that he doesn't particularly . . . like Slytherins." Scorpius snorted. "But if there's one thing James hates more than anything else, even Slytherins, it's losing."

"You're so naïve," said Scorpius, shaking his head. "The only person on that team who isn't going to be in Gryffindor is that Muggleborn you're always hanging out with. Roberts, or whatever her name is."

"Rogers," Rose corrected automatically. "And that's not true."

Scorpius looked at her scathingly. "Sure, Weasley. Whatever you say. But if you think Potter's going to cut his own brother, or cousin—"

"Well, by saying he'd pick Winnie as Seeker, you just insinuated that he'd cut his own sister," said Rose hotly.

"Only because there's no way Robbins isn't making the team. Not with the way she flies," retorted Scorpius.

"Funny you'd think that, considering she's Muggleborn," Rose said icily.

Scorpius's face hardened. The conversation might have gone ugly if Peeves hadn't chosen that moment to come zooming into the stairwell, cackling manically as he tossing a barrel of what looked suspiciously like Stinksap onto the landing above Rose and Scorpius.

Forgetting their argument for the time being, they both yelped and flew toward the ground level, taking the steps two at a time. Rose cried out as her leg sank into a false step, and she felt her ankle wrench violently. There was a sickening crack that she felt all the way in her stomach, and white hot pain shot up her leg.

Rose was dimly aware of her broomstick clattering noisily to the landing below, and Cursing, she grabbed the railing and pulled herself into a sitting position. Tentatively, she tried to tug her leg free, but even that small movement sent another wave of sickening pain up her calf.

"I just broke my ankle," she gasped, disbelieving. "Are you fucking _kidding me_?"

Even if Madam Pomfrey was able to mend the bone tonight, Rose knew from experience that it would still be weak tomorrow. The last thing she needed was any sort of disadvantage going into the tryouts. She had to show everyone that she deserved to be on that team, regardless of who was the captain. Angry tears stung at her eyes, and Rose brushed them away furiously.

"Crying, Weasley? What'd you do, skin your knee?" asked Scorpius mockingly. She hadn't even realized he was still there. He was standing on the same level as her broomstick, and didn't seem to realize how badly hurt she was. Good. Rose wanted to keep it that way.

"Go away, Malfoy. I can't deal with you anymore."

"Whatever," scoffed Scorpius, jogging down the last flight of steps. Rose watched him glance cautiously up the stairwell, where Peeves was still hovering somewhere around the fourth floor. If Scorpius would just leave, Rose might be able to get Peeves to go for help. He had a fondness for the Weasleys, mostly because they infuriated Filch almost as much as he did.

Not that that meant he'd actually help her. The more probably outcome was that Peeves would find another barrel of Stinksap to dump on her.

"What are you doing, Weasley?" Malfoy was standing on the bottom level, eyeing her warily.

"I told you to go away," snapped Rose. But just then her grip slid a little on the railing, and the movement jostled her ankle. She couldn't keep herself from crying out in pain. If it was only her ankle that she'd broken, then why on earth was her whole leg on fire?

"I wish I had a mirror, Weasley," said Scorpius, appearing next to her. "I mean, I know you're a ginger, but your face is so white, the ghosts are probably jealous."

Rose tried to curse at him, but she didn't have the breath. Which was probably a good thing, because in the next instant, Scorpius had yanked her ankle free. Oh, she found the breath for curses then.

* * *

"This is all your fault, you know," Rose informed Scorpius. She had been confined to a bed in the Hospital Wing for the night; it was the only way that Madam Pomfrey would agree to clear her for the Chaser trials tomorrow.

"How is this _my_ fault?" Scorpius asked indignantly. "You're the ninny who forgot to jump the trip stair."

Rose glared at him. "At least I'm not a coward," she said viciously.

" _Excuse me_?" His eyes bugged out, and for once, he seemed to be off guard.

"That's right. You're scared. Scared that Al and I'll are going to outfly you tomorrow," she said defiantly. "And you're using the fact that James is the captain as a crutch."

"Watch it, Weasley," said Scorpius, his eyes glinting dangerously. "You're treading on thin ice."

"Oh, please," Rose scoffed. "What are you going to do, hex me in front of Madam Pomfrey?"

"I don't need to," he snapped. "You'll do enough damage to yourself when you try and fly on that ankle tomorrow."

"At least I know I'll have the guts to fly," Rose fired back.

"Guts have nothing to do with it," said Scorpius through gritted teeth. "What's the point in humiliating myself in front of the entire school? There's no way in hell Potter will pick me."

"I guess you'll never find out," said Rose smirking.

There was a vein throbbing quite violently in Scorpius's temple, and for a moment, she wondered if he really might throttle her right in front of Madam Pomfrey. But then he seemed to regain control of himself and said, "What are you playing at, Weasley? Why do you care if I fly or not tomorrow?"

Now there was a question. Up until this point, Rose had thought she was just having a bit of fun at his expense. But Scorpius's question nagged at her. Why _did_ she care if he tried out or not?

"I don't, really," she said slowly. "Or I wouldn't, if McLaggen wasn't flying, and if I didn't know Natalie gets nervous. And if she chokes . . ." Rose fell silent, heat creeping up her neck. Merlin, she hated him.

Before he could answer, Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office, calling for lights out. As he was ushered out the door, Scorpius managed one last hard look at Rose. Then he was gone, and she was more than happy to take the Sleeping Draught Madam Pomfrey gave her and bury her face in the pillow. Sometimes Quidditch seemed more trouble than it was worth.

* * *

 **So, let me just say, I've been sick on and off for about a week, so if there are any mistakes in this chapter, or it doesn't seem quite up to fluff, it's the germs fault. And the fact that my cat really doesn't like it when I'm on the computer. She keeps putting herself in between me and the keyboard, then looking at me like, "How dare you pay attention to something other than my adorableness?"**

 **Yep, I used the word "adorableness".**

 **Anyway, reviews are quite lovely, especially because, as much as I hate to admit it, they really do increase my motivation for a story. I've said before I'll never hold a story hostage for reviews, but even if it's just a quick, "Loved it!" or "Hated it!" Preferably the former, hehe. Comments, questions, concerns, all are welcome.**


End file.
